


Becoming Belonging

by sahiya



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mental Health Issues, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Sibling Rivalry, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Lives, do not copy to another site, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: Peter barely remembered the week after he came back, five years and two minutes after dying on Titan. But he did remember this: looking at Morgan Stark and feeling––to his immediate shame––wildly, insanely jealous that Morgan had had those five years with Tony and Peter hadn’t.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 161
Kudos: 1802
Collections: I love you 3000, The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best MCU Fanfics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, The Best of the Best MCU Fics, TheMostWellWrittenIrondadSpidersonStoriesVerdianaPOV, ellie marvel fics - read





	Becoming Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, it's done, it took forever! Thanks for Fuzzyboo for beta reading and cheerleading and to Blondsak for coming in as a fresh pair of eyes at the end. 
> 
> Murphy in this fic is based entirely off of my older cat, who is incredibly sociable and probably would have loved being a bodega cat, had his life gone that way.

Peter barely remembered the week after he came back, five years and two minutes after dying on Titan. 

He had flashes of the hospital, too loud and too bright, sitting with Pepper and Rhodey, waiting for Dr. Cho to save Mr. Stark— _Tony_. There’d been a possibility he wouldn’t make it; Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner had both been honest about that with them, and Peter hadn’t known if he should think about it, to try and prepare himself, or to only think about the positive outcomes, as though he might will them into being. He’d ended up caught in a terrible mental limbo, not really able to do either and mostly trying not to think about how Tony had looked, lying there in the wreckage of the compound.

He remembered a few things very clearly—like the moment Pepper’s phone buzzed, and it was Happy and someone named Morgan. Pepper got all teary-eyed on the phone and eventually passed it to Rhodey, who had a conversation that consisted mostly of, “Uh huh” and “That sounds great, sweetheart” and “Is that right?” 

“Am I terrible for not telling her?” Pepper asked Rhodey once he’d disconnected. “I just—it’ll scare her, and if he doesn’t—if—”

“It’s the right call, Pep,” Rhodey said gently, and Pepper nodded, covering her face with her hands.

“Who’s Morgan?” Peter asked. They both stared at him as though they’d either forgotten he was there or forgotten that he hadn’t been for the last five years. 

_Five years_. It was still impossible to think about, a week later. But Morgan Stark was proof enough. 

Peter remembered, too, the moment May had shown up at the hospital. Just, she was suddenly there, clutching at him like her life—or his—depended on it, crying. “Oh God, baby, I missed you,” she said. 

_I missed you, too_ , he wanted to say, almost instinctively. But he hadn’t. He didn’t remember being gone. He remembered being dusted, remembered being scared out of his mind, and desperate, and then he remembered being awake again. 

Time skipped after that. May and Pepper tried to get him to leave the hospital, but he refused, too afraid of what might happen if he did. May found him clothes to change into that weren’t his suit, and that was when everyone else realized that Peter was kind of... injured. It was just cuts and bruises, he’d barely felt it, but May had looked horrified and made him sit down while she sewed up the worst of the cuts and put arnica on the bruises. 

Peter thought that was about the time he stopped talking. It was too much, all at once, and he just couldn’t respond to it anymore. So he stopped talking. 

He didn’t say a word when Dr. Cho came out, looking twenty years older, to tell them Tony would live. He couldn’t muster a word when Pepper took him back to see Tony where he lay, still unconscious. _In a medically-induced coma_ , Dr. Banner said, and those words echoed in Peter’s head as he stared at Tony’s unnaturally still form. Where his right arm should be, there was only a sheet. 

He was very, very tired, Peter realized suddenly. How long had it been since he’d left his house that morning? Five years was a long time to go without sleeping. Or eating. Peter was starving, though he couldn’t imagine eating any more than he could imagine speaking.

Somehow, he ended up at a house with May. It was on a lake, and there were lots of pictures of Tony and Pepper and their daughter. Some of them even had Happy and May in them. 

Peter was glad Tony and Pepper had taken care of May. That had been really kind of them. 

Happy was there, too. He hugged Peter–– _hugged_ him––and then he introduced Peter to Morgan. 

That part, Peter remembered distinctly. Remembered looking at Morgan Stark and feeling––to his immediate shame––wildly, insanely jealous that Morgan had had those years with Tony and Peter hadn’t.

“Tony’s going to be so pissed he missed this,” Happy said, sounding choked up. He’d been filming it with his phone, and Peter wondered what Happy wanted him to _do_. 

Morgan had looked like she was thinking the same thing. Her face was serious and wary. Peter didn’t think anyone had told her how badly injured Tony was, but she was obviously smart enough to know that something had happened.

“I’m Peter,” Peter had said, his voice rough with disuse. 

“I’m Morgan,” Morgan had replied. “You’re Spiderman.”

Peter had stared at her. “Who told you that?”

“My daddy.” With that, Morgan had turned and left the room––left the house, in fact, running down the hill toward a small tent. 

Happy had lowered the hand holding his phone. “Sometimes she takes a while to warm up to someone,” Happy said, as though reassuring Peter. “And it’s been a tough few days. But she’s really a great kid.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, staring out the window. Morgan had just disappeared into the tent. 

Peter didn’t speak another word for two days. 

***

_“How worried should we be?”_

_“He did this before, when his parents died. He didn’t talk for a month.”_

Peter stared at the ceiling, listening to May and Pepper’s hushed, worried voices. They were in the kitchen, far enough away from his room upstairs under the eaves that they’d never think he might hear them. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk. It was that there was so much in his head all at once, and it was like the words got stuck in his throat. What would he talk about, after all? Titan? Hearing Tony’s heart stop? Or maybe how getting dusted for five years had revealed exactly how fragile Peter’s place in the universe was? 

Tony had a kid. A smart, funny kid who didn’t have inconvenient superpowers or piles of emotional baggage. A kid who was half him and half Pepper. A kid who really, truly did not seem to like Peter at all. 

(Everyone was disappointed about this. No one had said anything, but it took Happy and Pepper _six_ utterly failed interactions between Peter and Morgan before they finally stopped trying to film it for Tony on their phones. Whatever heart-warming moment they were hoping for was never going to materialize.)

May, meanwhile, had... Happy. 

This was one of the things Peter did not remember from the week after he came back. He didn’t remember May telling him about her and Happy, but he knew it, somehow, so she must have. 

Peter guessed it could have been worse. May could’ve been with someone who didn’t know him at all. Happy knew him and knew about Spiderman, and Peter liked him. But that didn’t change the fact that Happy just being there changed... everything. Since Ben had died, Peter had gotten used to things being a certain way between him and May. She looked after him like she always had, but he looked after her, too. He took care of her when she wasn’t feeling well, and he handled a lot of the grocery shopping. He always knew when May was especially missing Ben, and he did his best to be there for her. 

Now––well, Peter knew it wasn’t right to say that May didn’t miss Ben anymore, but she wasn’t actively grieving for him. She’d left Peter behind in that way. Happy did all the shopping and cooking, as far as Peter could tell. The two of them worked, almost as well as May and Ben had. Peter knew that Happy was glad he was alive and everything, but he wasn’t sure how glad he was to have Peter right there, taking up May’s time and attention. Happy liked him, kind of, but they didn’t have the warm, supportive relationship that Peter and Tony did. Peter couldn’t help thinking that Happy had probably been just fine with the way things were before. And May had been fine, too. 

The bottom line was that May didn’t need Peter anymore, not the way she had. By the second week, Peter realized that no one did. 

He thought about the way wounds closed up. Even for people who hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider, they healed eventually. Sometimes they left a scar, but they didn’t bleed forever. 

Tony and May couldn’t have stayed locked in grief forever. Peter knew that. He wouldn’t have wanted them to, the same way he knew that Ben wouldn’t have wanted Peter to feel that way forever. But knowing that and feeling it were two separate things. Knowing that didn’t stop Peter from feeling left behind, lost, adrift, abandoned. 

There was no way for Peter to say any of this. So it stayed locked up in his head and the words stayed locked up in his throat, for most of two weeks after he came back. 

And then Tony woke up. 

***

Peter was sitting outside the SHIELD hospital where Tony had been lying in a coma for the past two weeks when May came to tell him he was awake. He was trying to eat a cup of yogurt Pepper had pressed on him, but he couldn’t seem to get any of it down his throat. He kept imagining all the words and feelings and unshed tears blocking it. He’d tried swallowing three times before finally giving up and spitting the mouthful into a napkin, which he tossed into a garbage can. 

“Honey!” May called, waving at him as she jogged across the parking lot. “He’s awake!”

Peter straightened up. “Tony?”

She finally reached him. “Yes, sweetie. He’s awake and he’s asking for you. Come on.”

She kept her arm around him as she steered him through the hospital corridors to Tony’s room. Peter hadn’t visited as much as some of the others. Pepper had been coming every day, of course, and Rhodey and Happy and Captain Rogers, or so Peter had heard. But Tony had been in a medically-induced coma, and no one had suggested that Peter or Morgan come visit until they eased up on the sedation and there was a chance he’d wake up. 

Peter hadn’t suggested it either. He’d heard Tony’s heart stop on the battlefield, and he’d seen him lying in a hospital bed afterward, and that was enough. He hadn’t wanted to see him again until he was awake, until he could look into Tony’s eyes and see _Tony_. 

There was a crowd of people outside Tony’s room. Almost all of the Avengers, plus some other people Peter didn’t recognize. But they parted to let him and May through.

The lights were dim. The heart monitor was beeping quietly. Everything was the same as it had been two weeks ago, except someone had raised the head of the bed slightly, so Tony wasn’t flat on his back anymore. Pepper was at his right side––the side where the sheets were flat where there should have been an arm, where scarring still wove its way up his neck and into his hair––holding him with great care. And on his left side, tucked into the crook of his remaining arm, was Morgan. 

Peter had an instant sensation of not-belonging. He started to back up and ran into May, who was right behind him. 

Pepper raised her head. “There you are, Peter! Tony, honey, look who’s here.”

Tony opened his eyes. Peter gasped, involuntarily, remembering how he’d looked on the battlefield as the light had faded out of them. He didn’t look like that now. “Kid,” he breathed. “Come here.”

Peter stumbled forward. Pepper got up before he could stop her and took Peter’s arm, pulling him even closer. “Hi,” he whispered. 

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said with a wet smile. “God, I’m glad to see you.” 

He made the smallest of movements, like he was about to take his arm from around Morgan and hug Peter. Morgan whined, visibly tightening her hold on him. Tony gave up, smiling ruefully at Peter. “Sorry, Pete.”

Peter couldn’t speak. He was filled to the brim with envy and fierce longing. All he wanted was for Tony to hug him and tell him it was going to be all right, there was still a place for him in the world. But he couldn’t, because Morgan was clamped onto him like a limpet, eyeing Peter almost warningly. 

She hadn’t said a word, but Peter heard it anyway. _Mine._

She was right, too. Tony had never been Peter’s, not really. And even if he had been before, he wasn’t now. 

“Peter,” Tony said, watching his face worriedly. “Hey, Pete, are you––”

“I can’t,” Peter gasped, and turned and almost ran out of the room. He ran through the gauntlet of Avengers, down the hall, down three flights of stairs, and burst out of the hospital and into the open air. He was heaving, trying desperately to drag oxygen into his starved lungs, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to. 

May caught up with him as he stood in the parking lot, doubled over with his hands on his knees. She put her hand on his back and urged him to breathe with her. Peter concentrated on the sound of her voice, the feel of her hand. It felt like it took forever, but eventually he started getting some air in. His head was still spinning, but he no longer felt like he was about to pass out. 

“There you go,” May said. “Let’s go sit over here, yeah?” She tugged him over to a bench and pushed him to sit down. She pulled a packet of tissues out of her purse, and Peter wiped his face with them. “Feeling better?” 

He nodded. He blew his nose. Then he looked at her. Her face was five years older than he remembered. She had more gray—not as much as Tony—and more lines, especially around her eyes. 

He swallowed. “I want to go home.”

She blinked. “You mean back to the lake house?”

He shook his head. “ _Home_. Can we? Please?”

May cupped his face in her hands, staring at him searchingly. Then she nodded. “Yeah. We can go home. Whatever you want, baby.”

***

Home wasn’t home anymore. 

Peter didn’t know what he’d been expecting. At the lake house, as out of place as he’d felt, it was possible to kind of ignore what had happened, or at least think of it as his tragedy. In the city, it wasn’t. The world was reeling. Peter’s feelings weren’t unique: everywhere he looked, people were grieving lives that didn’t exist anymore. 

MJ and Ned had both been snapped. Peter didn’t know whether to feel glad or not; he didn’t know what he would’ve done if they’d moved on without him, but they both had it harder than Peter. May and Happy had a guest room, which meant Peter at least had a bed. Ned’s family had moved to a smaller apartment, and there wasn’t any space for him; they’d sent him to stay with family in New Jersey until they could find a bigger place. 

MJ and her mom had to come back to find that her stepdad had remarried and really didn’t care to help them at all. She hadn’t ever liked him much, but it left the two of them basically homeless. They’d left the city, too, to go stay with MJ’s grandmother in Delaware, until her mom could figure out how to make ends meet. 

In the face of all of that, Peter didn’t feel like he had much right to complain. He had a place to stay, even if it didn’t feel like home. His stuff had been stored at the compound, May said, looking stricken, and the compound was destroyed. 

“We’ll get you new stuff,” she promised him. “Just as soon as things calm down. It’ll be fun.”

Peter did not expect it to be fun.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just like it wasn’t Tony’s fault that he’d moved on and had his own family, his own kid. Peter didn’t hate them for it. It just hurt. And he couldn’t let May see how much it hurt, because he knew how much it would upset her. But it was awfully hard to hide. 

Spiderman, though... Spiderman wore a mask. No one knew if Spiderman was happy or sad, if he’d spent most of the night crying because he just wanted his life back—his apartment and his Lego models and his relationship with May and his friendship with Tony. In the mask, he was safe. And he could help people, too. There were a lot of people who needed help, so that seemed like a win-win situation. Even if it was kind of a sucky one.

“Hi Peter,” Karen said, the first time Peter put his suit on, in the guest room at May and Happy’s. It was an older suit, one that Peter hadn’t worn in a while, since his newest one had been wrecked in the battle at the compound. But it still fit. “It is good to see you again.”

Peter closed his eyes, relieved beyond measure that Karen hadn’t gone anywhere. “Hi Karen,” he said, voice tight. “Good to see you, too. Let’s help some people, yeah?”

“Of course. Searching now. You have four messages from Mr. Stark. The most recent one is four years and one month old. Would you like to hear them?”

Peter wasn’t sure he did. But he knew he’d always wonder if he didn’t. “Yes, please.”

 _“Peter.”_ Tony’s voice was rough, breaking. Peter sucked in a breath. _“God, hearing your voice again—I’m sure this isn’t healthy, but I just miss you, and—and I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry, kid, you have no idea. I’m sorry.”_

The message ended. Another one started before Peter had the chance to tell Karen to stop. He didn’t think this was such a good idea after all. 

_“Happy birthday, underoos.”_ Tony’s voice not only sounded rough in this one, the words were slurred, like he’d been drinking. _“Your aunt wanted me to come with her to the memorial—people built this memorial to you in Queens, but I just can’t—I can’t—fuck. I miss you.”_

There was a sharp intake of breath, almost a gasp, and then the message ended. Peter’s eyes were wet, his throat aching and thick. 

_“Hi Pete.”_ Tony’s voice sounded clearer this time. _“Got some news for you. Just about the first good news I’ve had since... well. Since. I wish you were here for me to tell you in person, but this’ll have to do. Pepper’s pregnant. It’s a girl. We’re gonna name her Morgan. I’m—well, I’m fucking terrified, to be honest. But I think—I think this is the first time since I lost you that I’ve believed I might get through this. I have to.”_ There was a pause, and then Tony said, _“Miss you, kid”_ and hung up. 

There were tears streaming down Peter’s face. “Karen,” he said. “Wait, wait––I shouldn’t—”

Too late. The next message—the last one—was already playing. 

_“Hi Pete.”_ Tony sounded like he’d been crying again. _“I just wanted to tell you—Morgan was born this morning. Eight pounds, three ounces. She and Pep are doing great. I missed you so much when they put her in my arms, it made my chest hurt. But I realized... I realized I have to be there for her, totally. I can’t fail her. And that means... that means I have to let you go. You’re gone, and I have to accept that, even though it kills me. I can’t keep looking back. So... so this is it. I miss you, Pete. I always will. Goodbye.”_

The call ended. Peter tore the mask off and flung it across the room. He was sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop crying.

He’d known. He’d known that Tony would’ve had to let him go when Morgan came along. But to hear it was something else. 

Peter understood what Tony meant when he’d said it had made his chest hurt. Peter’s chest hurt now. He kept rubbing it, but it didn’t help. Maybe this was what heartbreak felt like, he thought. He curled up on the bed, on the generic coverlet that didn’t look anything like the one he’d had in his bedroom at the old apartment, and cried until he wore himself out and fell asleep.

***

_Hi kid. They finally gave me my phone back. I’m bored out of my skull. Recovery is so tedious. Call me._

The message arrived while Peter was out, wandering around the city to try and get his bearings. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to put the suit back on since that first time, but he’d decided to try and help just as himself, good old Peter Parker. He’d cautiously ventured into his old neighborhood for the first time today. He was standing on the corner across from Delmar’s, which was dark and boarded up, when Tony’s message arrived. 

Peter didn’t know what to do with it. He was glad Tony was doing better, but he had Pepper and Morgan and Rhodey. He didn’t need Peter. 

May or Happy had probably told Pepper that Peter wasn’t doing so well. He’d tried to hide it, but May had asked him that morning if he was sleeping well. He’d lied and said he was sleeping fine, but then she’d said she didn’t think he should be going out so much, so he didn’t think she’d believed him. But she hadn’t tried to stop him from leaving, either.

He didn’t want Tony’s pity, he told himself, and he didn’t want scraps of his attention, either. Except that he’d always been kind of pathetic when it came to Tony. He’d always wanted his time and attention—more of it than he deserved. He didn’t have any right to it, after all. Not like his real family did. Peter stared at the words on the screen of his phone, watching them blur in and out. 

He was still trying to decide what to do when he heard it—a familiar sound, just louder and more demanding than usual. He looked up and saw that the Delmars’ cat, Murphy—much thinner than Peter remembered, his fur dirty and matted—was crouched at the door to the closed-up shop, crying insistently to be let in. 

Peter crossed the street almost at a run, afraid Murphy would take off before he could get there. He didn’t, though he watched Peter approach him much more warily than he ever had when he’d been a beloved bodega cat. Peter crouched down and held out his hand. Murphy sniffed it, then shoved his head straight into Peter’s hand. 

“Yeah, you know me,” Peter murmured, starting to scratch Murphy behind the ears, just like he’d always liked before. “You got snapped, too, didn’t you? And now here you are, but nothing’s the same. I know the feeling.” 

Murphy had obviously been dying for affection and human attention. He didn’t struggle at all when Peter picked him up, just shoved his head up against Peter’s chin. Peter wrapped him up in his jacket and started walking back to May and Happy’s.

It was a long walk—at least an hour—but after twenty minutes or so Peter found a bodega that was open. The girl behind the counter was pale and hollow-eyed, and she didn’t blink at the sight of Murph in Peter’s arms. He bought two cans of tuna with pop tops and found a bench to sit on. He set Murphy down and opened the first one. Murphy’s meowing became continuous, almost frantic, until Peter set the can down in front of him. Then it abruptly cut off as Murphy started scarfing it down. 

“Don’t make yourself sick,” Peter told him, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop him. 

He took his phone out again. The message from Tony was still there. 

It would be rude not to answer at all. Tony had saved the universe and paid a huge price. He was bored and probably in pain, and it wasn’t his fault Peter was a needy pain in the ass who latched onto people he had no right to. 

He took a picture of Murph and sent it to Tony. 

_Who’s your friend?_ Tony replied. 

Peter hesitated, before finally deciding it wouldn’t hurt to explain. _You probably don’t remember that sandwich shop I used to go to, but they had a bodega cat, Murphy. I went back today and the shop is closed up, but Murph was outside, crying to be let in. I guess he got snapped, too._

 _That’s rough for him_ , Tony replied. _You taking him home?_

_Guess so. Not sure Happy is gonna love it._

_Ehhhh he’s a big softy. Don’t tell him I said that._

Peter smiled. It felt strange on his face. It had been a while since he’d last smiled. 

Before he could respond, Tony wrote, _You could bring Murphy with you next time you visit. I bet Morgan would love him._

It felt like a bucket of ice water, dumped over his head. Peter almost dropped his phone. Instead he just shoved it back in his pocket and looked at Murphy. 

He was trying to get the last little bits of tuna. Peter used his finger to scrape them together. Murph ate those, too, then sat back, looked Peter in the eye, and meowed pointedly.

“I know, but I don’t want you to eat too much all at once. You can have the other can once we’re home, okay?” Peter scooped Murphy up in his jacket again and set off. 

The sun was going down by the time Peter got home. He wasn’t sure what the pet policy in the building was, so he waited until the doorman took a package into the mailroom and then hurried across to the elevator. He kept Murphy as hidden as possible on the ride up, but after being pretty docile for most of the trip, he was getting restless. 

Peter let himself into the apartment and toed off his shoes in the foyer. May had never cared whether he took his shoes off, but Happy was a stickler for it. 

“Hi honey!” May called. “We’re in the kitchen!”

Peter took Murphy out of his jacket, draped him over his shoulder, and headed toward the kitchen. He could smell food cooking—good food, which meant Happy was the one in charge—and hear music playing. “Hey,” he said, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. “Look who I found.”

Happy was at the stove, stirring something in a pan. May was at the kitchen island with a glass of wine. They both looked up and then stared at him.

“What is _that_?” Happy demanded.

“Is that Murphy?” May gasped. 

“Who?” Happy asked. 

“It is him, isn’t it?” May asked Peter, ignoring Happy.

“Yeah. I went back to the old neighborhood,” Peter explained, finally letting Murphy jump down to the floor. He immediately started prowling around, sniffing things. “Delmar’s is all closed up, but I found Murph there. What happened to them? Did they get snapped?”

May shook her head. “No, but after it happened—it was pretty ugly in the city for a while. I think they took their daughter and went to live with their older son upstate. His wife got snapped and he needed help with the kids.”

“Oh. I guess they forgot about Murph after everyone came back.” Peter watched him sadly. At least May and Tony had been glad to see him. 

“You don’t know that,” May pointed out gently. “Maybe they came to look for him and couldn’t find him, or maybe something stopped them from coming.”

“Maybe. Either way, he’s really hungry. I gave him some food, but he wanted more.”

“I hope you don’t think we’re keeping him,” Happy grumbled. 

Peter looked at May. May was frowning at Happy. 

“I just thought—he doesn’t have anyone,” Peter said. 

“Except for fleas,” Happy replied. “Bet he’s got plenty of those.”

“I’ll wash him then,” Peter said, trying not to sound desperate. “Give him a chance, I bet you’ll like him.”

Happy grimaced. “Not really a cat person. Or a pet person.”

“Or a kid person, right?” Peter snapped. He didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. 

Happy dropped the spatula he was holding and stared at Peter, an almost wounded look on his face. Peter looked away, ashamed. 

“Peter,” May said quietly, “why don’t you put Murphy in your bathroom and then run out and get some things for him? There’s a pet supply place down on 65th.”

Peter nodded. He picked Murphy up, ignoring his meow of protest, and put him in the bathroom with a dish of water and a bit more tuna. Then he left, ignoring the fact that May and Happy were facing off in the kitchen, May with her arms crossed over her chest, Happy poking at the onions sizzling on the stove, both obviously waiting for him to leave so they could talk––or argue––about it. 

He walked down to the pet store in kind of a fugue state. He grabbed some food and bowls, a litter box and a bag of litter, and a few toys. Enough to get them through the next few days. He guessed by then he’d know whether Happy was going to let him keep Murphy. 

It wasn’t fair. Murphy was the first thing since Peter had come back that made him feel like maybe there was a reason for him to be here. No one else needed him, but Murphy did. Why should Happy get to take that away from him?

By the time he got back to the apartment, he’d managed to work himself into a state. He went straight through the living room without stopping, not really wanting to talk to either of them. He let Murphy out of the bathroom and set up the litter box and the bowls. Murphy scarfed down a can of Fancy Feast, but after that he mostly seemed to want to sit on top of Peter. 

May knocked at the door a few minutes later. Peter was stretched out on his bed with Murph on top of him, purring loudly. “Hey,” she said, letting herself in. She had a plate of food in her hand, which she set on his desk. 

Peter sat up, dislodging Murphy. May sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand out for Murphy to sniff. He shoved his head into her hand, purring even louder now that he had two humans to pet him. “How are you doing?” she asked after a moment. 

Peter shrugged. 

May sighed. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. Happy doesn’t really want to kick Murphy out. He would never do that. But he said, and I think he’s right, that we should maybe try and find the Delmars. They might want him back.”

Peter looked away, concentrating on rubbing Murphy behind the ears. He didn’t like the idea, but he guessed she was right. He nodded. 

“Okay.” May tucked a strand of hair behind Peter’s ear. “Pepper called. She said Tony is doing a lot better. Have you talked to him at all?”

Peter shrugged. “He texted me.”

“Maybe call him tomorrow? I can only imagine how hard he must be to deal with when he’s bored,” she added with a rueful smile. “I think Pepper would appreciate any distraction you could provide.”

Peter shrugged again. 

May frowned, studying him. “Would you like to go up to the lake house next weekend?” she asked. “I’m sure they’d love to have you, especially now that Tony’s home.”

“Maybe,” Peter said, knowing he wouldn’t.

May nodded. “All right. Make sure you eat something, all right? Gotta feed that metabolism.”

He nodded. She kissed him on the forehead and left. 

Peter looked at Murphy. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” he said aloud. 

Murphy meowed. 

“Yeah, you get it.” Peter heaved a sigh. He took the plate of food and looked at it. It smelled good––chicken with sauce, and some wild rice and veggies. But he hadn’t had much of an appetite since coming back. He gave Murphy a piece of the chicken by hand, then forced himself to take a few bites. “It’s gonna be okay,” he told Murphy. “I’m not gonna let Happy take you to the shelter or kick you out. I promise.”

Murphy looked up at him and kind of... chirped. Peter smiled and rubbed the top of his head, feeling just a little bit better. 

***

The good feeling didn’t last long. The next morning, Peter woke to two text messages and a voicemail from Tony, who apparently really was bored. Peter spent a long time lying in bed, staring at the text messages. They were the kind of thing Tony used to send him all the time, when he was stuck in a board meeting or spinning his wheels in the workshop. Peter had never had trouble responding before. 

But now... now he didn’t know what Tony expected from him, and it made him feel weird. He knew he could be kind of too much sometimes. He cringed when he thought of all those voicemails he used to leave Happy, begging for attention. He didn’t want to be that kid anymore. And if he was, at some point, Tony would realize he was too much and start to push him away. 

Peter didn’t think he could stand it if that happened. It was better to just keep his distance. He could be cool with it. It hurt, but it hurt less than it would to have Tony ice him out when Peter got too needy. 

He didn’t think he could handle that. Not right now. 

Cat photos seemed safe. He took a picture of Murphy dozing in a patch of sun and sent it to Tony. 

_Cute. Happy let him stay then?_

_For now. I’m supposed to try and find his old family._

_Want to come up next weekend and bring him? I’m starting to design my prosthesis and I could use your input._

Peter stared at the message. His vision blurred in and out. This wasn’t fair. Tony was being so nice to him, almost like he really wanted to see him. It was everything Peter had wanted, everything he’d gotten used to during that year between the Vulture and Thanos, maybe even more. 

But then he thought about the look on Morgan Stark’s face that morning in the hospital, and he knew it couldn’t last. There’d been room for Peter in Tony’s life back then, but there wasn’t now. Even if Tony himself didn’t seem to realize it yet. He would at some point.

Peter didn’t respond. It was easier than saying no, and Tony was smart. He’d get the message.

Except... he didn’t. He kept texting. He seemed to get that Peter didn’t want to talk about visiting, so at least he stopped bringing that up. But he never stopped reaching out. Two, three texts a day, like little bombs dropped into Peter’s life. 

Peter guessed that Tony wasn’t used to being ghosted. And the truth was that Peter couldn’t bring himself to totally ignore him, even if all he sent him were cat photos. It was _Tony_.

It twisted Peter up inside. It made him feel sick, just like half heartedly searching online for the Delmars did. Nothing was the way it had been, and the only good thing he’d found so far wasn’t his to keep. _Nothing_ was his to keep in this new world. 

The scariness of it overwhelmed him if he let it, so he tried not to think about it at all. That was hard, though. He stopped talking again, all his loneliness and grief and bitter disappointment locked up in his throat. 

No one really wanted to hear it anyway. 

***

_Kid, did I do something? I know things are bad right now but you’d tell me if you were mad right? I get you don’t want to come visit but I don’t know why. If I did something I really wish you’d tell me. Please just tell me, so I can fix it. I fixed the universe to get you back, I can fix whatever’s wrong. Please just tell me._

Peter stared at the message on his phone. It was time stamped at 3:34am. Tony had sent it in the middle of the night. 

It’d been a little over a week since he’d found Murphy, since Tony had started texting him. He’d thought they’d kind of found a new normal—good enough to fool Tony into thinking things were fine while letting Peter protect himself from getting hurt when Tony inevitably realized he didn’t need Peter in his life anymore. 

Apparently not. Apparently Tony _knew_ something was wrong and thought it was his fault, which was just wrong in so many ways. And what did he mean, he’d fixed the universe to get Peter back? That couldn’t be true, could it?

There was one person who might know. Peter had mostly been avoiding Happy, but he guessed that couldn’t last forever. 

He left Murphy snoozing on his bed and ventured out. Happy was on the phone, pacing. “Yeah, yeah—no, I haven’t, I wanted to talk to you first. What do Cho and Banner think?”

_“They don’t really know what happened. It’s not a normal injury, there really isn’t any precedent, so they don’t know what to expect. He seemed fine last night, but you know how Tony is—it wouldn’t be the first time he was dying and didn’t tell me.”_

That was Pepper. That was Pepper, talking about Tony _dying._

Peter must have made a noise, because Happy looked up and saw him. “Pep, I gotta go. Hang in there, all right? You know he’s not going out without a fight.”

_“I know. I’ll call if anything changes.”_

“Thanks.” Happy disconnected and looked at Peter. “I suppose you heard all of that.”

Peter swallowed. “Tony... he’s not—he didn’t—“

“He’s still kicking,” Happy confirmed. “He spiked a fever early this morning. He’s—well, he’s very sick, I’m not gonna lie, but he’s stable for now.”

Peter nodded, jerkily. He felt shaky from the adrenaline dump of thinking that Tony was dying. 

Happy was watching him carefully. “Listen, kid,” he finally said, “I don’t pretend to know what’s been going on with you. I get that this is hard, and I’m sure you have your reasons for not wanting to see Tony. But I think you should. Because I don’t want you to have to live with that kind of regret, if you don’t go and something happens. You see what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, I—I get it.” He felt numb all over. He imagined Tony—sick, fever climbing—writing him that message. Wanting to know what he’d done for Peter to not want to see him anymore. 

“Go pack a bag, I’m going to call May and let her know what’s going on.”

“What about—um. I can’t just leave Murphy.”

Happy looked momentarily flummoxed. “You got a carrier for him?” he finally asked. Peter nodded. “Then just bring him, I guess. We’re going to the lake house, not the SHIELD facility—they thought it was better not to move him, and they’ve got half a hospital’s worth of medical equipment there now.”

Peter nodded again. Happy picked up his phone and Peter went into his room. He threw some clothes in a bag and then got a reusable grocery bag to put Murphy’s food and stuff into. They could find something at the lake house to use as a litter box. 

Murphy didn’t like being put in his carrier, and Peter had to be extra careful not to hurt him when he struggled. But finally he was inside, yowling plaintively. Peter gathered everything up and went back out to find Happy waiting for him, his own overnight bag in hand. 

“May has to work, but she’ll come up this weekend––sooner if... well, if something changes,” Happy told him, looking awkward. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not really hungry,” Peter mumbled. 

Happy sighed. “We’ll stop on the way. Come on, then. Let’s go.”

***

The first half of the ride up was silent, aside from Murphy’s disgruntled meowing. Peter held the carrier on his lap and stared out the window at the passing suburbs. He somehow felt both numb and shaky.

He’d hurt Tony. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he had. And now he might die thinking Peter didn’t care, because Peter had been too afraid of getting hurt himself. 

“Kid,” Happy said suddenly. “Kid, are you okay?”

Peter sniffled, startled to realize he had tears on his face. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry.” He swiped angrily at the tears. 

“Yeah, okay,” Happy said under his breath. He pulled off at the next exit and into a roadside rest stop with a Burger King. “I’m gonna order you a pile of food and you’re going to eat it, all right? I’ll even order something for that howling beast of yours.”

Peter shrugged. Happy let out a long, slow breath and then climbed out of the car. 

Peter let Murphy out of his carrier. Murphy immediately jumped up on the dashboard and sprawled out. Peter leaned his head against the window and swallowed. He wasn’t hungry at all. He thought he might just throw up anything he tried to eat. 

Happy came back ten minutes later with a sackful of food. He narrowed his eyes at Murphy but didn’t say anything. “I got him a plain hamburger patty,” he said. “I got you three cheeseburgers and three fries, plus a chocolate milkshake. We got enough problems without you keeling over from low blood sugar.”

Peter knew Happy didn’t mean anything by it––he’d heard him talk to Tony the same way dozens of times––but it still stung. Happy had always had the tendency to make Peter feel like a problem he had to solve. He hunched in his seat and resolved to try and eat something. The cheeseburgers felt impossible but maybe the shake would be okay. 

Peter broke up half the plain hamburger patty for Murphy and set it on a napkin in front of him on the dashboard. 

“Spoiled,” Happy muttered, as though he hadn’t been the one to buy it for Murphy to begin with. He took a huge bite of his own cheeseburger. 

“Yeah, well, his family abandoned him,” Peter replied. “He deserves to be spoiled.”

Happy was silent for a moment. “His family didn’t abandon him,” he finally said. “He wasn’t there anymore, and they didn’t know that he’d come back. They had to move on, but it wasn’t that they didn’t love him.”

Peter forced himself to take a sip of his shake. It tasted exactly the way it always had. Fast food chocolate shakes never changed. “I guess. Still means there isn’t any room for him anymore.”

“There’s plenty of room,” Happy said, turning to look at him. “It just might not look the same.”

Peter looked away. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t,” Happy admitted, surprising him. Peter turned to stare at him. “But you don’t get it either. I can’t understand what it feels like to get dusted and come back five years later, but you can’t understand what it feels like to be left behind, to have to try and build some kind of life out of absolute ruins. We had to try and make it count, kid––not just for us, but for you.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. He hadn’t really tried to imagine what it’d been like on the other side. For a few seconds, he imagined what it would’ve been like if he’d been the one left behind, without May or Tony. It was _horrible_. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I fucked up. By not talking to Tony.”

Happy sighed. “Yeah. Mind telling me what that’s about? Because you’ve had some smart people completely stumped.”

“Morgan,” Peter said, and then stopped, unsure of how to go on. 

“Ah,” Happy said. 

“She’s... she’s Tony’s. She’s his real kid, his and Pepper’s.”

“I can see how that might feel... complicated.”

“Yeah.” Peter sucked on his shake briefly. “Doesn’t help that she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Happy replied firmly. “And even if she does, guess what? She’s _four_. Those of us with several decades on her are having a hard time figuring out how to react to this.”

Peter slumped down in his seat, shake in hand. Happy finished his cheeseburger and threw the wrapper into the bag. Then he started the car up again and turned back toward the highway. 

Peter managed to finish the shake. He put the cup in the sack of garbage Happy had started and unwrapped his first cheeseburger. Murphy had finished his snack and jumped down to curl up in the footwell on the passenger side. 

“Happy?” Peter finally said quietly. 

“Yeah, kid?”

“Why did Tony––why do you think Tony did it? Time travel and... and the snap, all of it? I get why the others did what they did, they’d all lost... a lot. But Tony had Pepper and Morgan. And he could have died. He could have lost everything. Why did he do it?”

“You know, Peter,” Happy said, staring ahead at the road, “for a smart kid, you are a real idiot sometimes.”

Peter guessed there was nothing to say to that.

***

Peter’s memories of being at the lake house the first time were patchy at best. He remembered the feeling of disorientation and displacement more than anything. Just the smell of the air brought it all back, not that it had ever really left him. He’d just stuffed it down and sat on it. 

“All right, then.” Happy turned the engine off. “How you feeling, kid?”

Peter stared up at the lake house. “Kind of nauseous. That was a lot of cheeseburgers you made me eat.”

Happy snorted. “You gonna try and stuff His Highness back into the carrier?”

“No, I’ll just carry him.” Peter scooped Murphy up in one arm, grabbed his bags with his other, and climbed out of the car.

Murphy kept trying to twist around and look and sniff at everything. Peter supposed it was a lot to take in for a cat that had spent his whole life in the city. He kept a firm grip on him as they climbed the steps to the porch. 

Pepper must have seen them coming, or been alerted by FRIDAY, because she opened the door before they’d even reached the top. “Peter, honey,” Pepper said, stepping forward, “it’s so good to see you again. And this must be Murphy! Morgan has been very excited ever since I told her you were bringing him.” 

She squeezed Peter’s shoulder, then moved on to hug Happy. “Thanks for bringing him, Happy,” Pepper said. 

“No problem, Pep. I should head back, though.”

Peter blinked. “Aren’t you staying?”

Happy shook his head, almost smiling. “Nope. I got a date with your aunt tonight.”

Peter blinked. “But... Tony’s sick, you can’t just––you’re not going to––”

“See you in a couple of days, kid,” Happy said with a wave as he turned and headed back down the steps toward the car. “Don’t let the cat destroy the house.” 

“Wait,” Peter said, staring blankly as Happy got into the car and backed out of his space. “What’s going on?”

Pepper put her hand on Peter’s shoulder. “For the record, I thought this entire thing was a little mean. But I was also tired of listening to Tony whine because you were ignoring him, so I went along with it.”

Peter stared at her. “He’s not sick?” 

“No. Still not fully recovered, of course,” she added. “But he’s not sick.”

“So... you all tricked me into coming up here.”

“Basically.”

“That’s...” Peter shook his head. “ _Why_?”

Pepper’s smile slipped. “Because we miss you. Tony especially misses you. And we were all worried about you.”

“Oh.” Peter didn’t know what to say. He thought that maybe he should have been angry; it was manipulative, after all, and he’d been really worried about Tony. But getting mad seemed like a lot of work, and it was almost weirdly... nice. They’d all gone to a lot of trouble to get him up here. 

Pepper was smiling at him again. “Come inside, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll want to get Murphy settled.”

“Um. Yeah. Sorry about bringing him,” Peter added, looking down at him. “I’ll just keep him in my room. You won’t even know he’s here.”

“He can’t possibly be more trouble than Gerald,” Pepper said, smiling at him gently. “At least he won’t eat my goji berries.”

“I can promise you he won’t,” Peter said, matching her smile with a tentative one of his own. 

Inside, the first thing Peter saw was Morgan, coloring at the coffee table. She looked up when he came in and her eyes widened. “Kitty!” she yelled, jumping up. 

Peter had to smile, even as Pepper sighed. “Morgan,” Pepper said, “it’s polite to greet the human, too.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said. It was definitely the happiest Morgan had ever been to see him, even if she was really excited about Murphy. “His name is Murphy.”

Morgan paused, hand outstretched. “Is he nice?”

It was probably what she’d been taught to ask about strange dogs. “Yes, he’s very nice. He used to hang out at the convenience store near my house, so he was used to lots of different people petting him.”

She reached out and touched Murphy’s back. Murphy twisted around and sniffed at her. She smiled. “His whiskers tickle.”

“Sweetie,” Pepper said, touching the top of Morgan’s head gently, “why don’t you let Peter get Murphy settled in his room? You can play with him later.”

Morgan sighed. “Okay,” she agreed. But she still trailed Peter down the hall toward the room he’d used when he was here last time. She watched him set up a dishpan Pepper gave him to serve as a litter box and put Murphy’s food down. 

Murphy ate a few mouthfuls, then went and jumped up on the bed. Morgan ventured closer; Peter kept an eye on them as he finished setting things up in the bathroom. But Murphy was used to being petted by all kinds of people, including kids, and Morgan was pretty gentle. She knew to keep to his head and back. After a moment, Murphy started to purr. 

“I want a kitty,” Morgan said. She was still stroking Murphy’s back. “But Mommy says Gerald counts as four pets.”

“Yeah, alpacas are probably a lot of work.” He went and sat on the bed, scratching Murphy behind the ears. “Murphy’s only kind of mine. He got snapped, like me, and when he came back, his family had left him behind. I’m supposed to be trying to find them, so they can have him back if they want.”

Morgan frowned. “I hope you don’t find them,” she declared. 

Peter has to smile, though it felt weak. “I kind of hope I don’t find them, either. But the really important thing is that someone can take care of him, whether that’s me or his old family.”

She didn’t look totally convinced. Peter wasn’t sure he was, either, but he guessed he had to try to be more mature than a four-year-old.

After a moment, Pepper knocked on the door. “Morgan, put your coat on sweetie. We’re going to meet Ewan and his mom at the park, and then we’re going to get lunch and maybe even _ice cream_.”

Morgan had started out looking reluctant, but by the time Pepper mentioned ice cream she’d brightened up considerably. She ran out of Peter’s room and up the stairs. 

“I hope you don’t mind that Morgan and I are going out for a bit,” Pepper said, leading Peter back toward the kitchen. “We haven’t been able to leave the house much, so I thought this was a good chance for me to take her to the park to see her friends and have some one-on-one time with her. Tony is upstairs in his room, supposedly resting, though he’s probably working on prosthesis designs. I just put a casserole in the oven that the two of you can have for lunch. He should take his medication after he eats, and don’t let him convince you that he doesn’t need it, because he does.”

Peter didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. Morgan thumped down the stairs in her coat, yelled, “BYE MURPHY!” and ran out to the car. Pepper smiled ruefully and put her own coat on before following her. Peter stood in the living room, watching out the window until their car disappeared around the bend in the driveway. 

There was no reason for Peter to feel so nervous about going upstairs and seeing Tony. He knew that Tony wasn’t mad at him; no one seemed to be mad at him, even though, looking back, Peter thought that it was possible he’d been kind of self-absorbed lately. But for some reason, the idea of climbing the stairs made his palms go damp with anxiety. 

“Pull it together, Parker,” he muttered, and forced himself to climb the stairs anyway. 

Pepper had been right when she’d predicted that Tony would be working instead of resting. Peter pushed open the door to Tony and Pepper’s bedroom to see Tony lying on top of the covers of the made-up bed, in sweat pants and an MIT sweatshirt, spinning a holographic model of a vibranium arm. He looked kind of pale and sweaty but still about a thousand times better than the last time Peter had seen him. Peter knocked on the door jamb; Tony looked up and grinned so widely Peter thought his face might crack from it. 

“Pete! Kid! Come in, come look at this.” Tony gestured toward him, and Peter came as though pulled on a string. He sat down on the edge of the bed and let the flow of Tony’s words wash over him without really connecting any of them together: _vibranium, neural interface, nanotech_. He was thinking about how good it was to be near Tony again, how it felt like something that had been locked up hard and tight inside of him since he came back suddenly released, and it was such a relief. 

Tony’s voice ran down suddenly. “Kid?” he said. “Everything okay?”

Peter realized he was crying again. He swiped at his face and nodded, looking away. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Sorry about, um, tricking you. I realize that wasn’t cool.”

“It really wasn’t,” Peter sniffed, feeling just a shade of the anger he hadn’t felt toward Pepper earlier. “It was kind of mean. I was really worried about you.”

“I know, Pete, I’m sorry.” Tony reached out and squeezed Peter’s arm. “And sorry for the overwrought text message last night, too. I was having kind of a shitty moment in the middle of the night, but I shouldn’t have laid that on you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Peter said, voice hoarse. Tony went quiet. “It wasn’t. You didn’t do anything. It wasn’t your fault.” He sniffled. “It’s just... it... it was a lot, everything that happened. And I didn’t know how to handle it. And I was afraid...” He stopped, unsure whether he should––or even _could_ ––put into words everything he’d been afraid of. 

“What were you afraid of, Pete?” Tony asked after a moment, gently. 

Peter swallowed. He shook his head, then wiped his nose on the back of his hand. 

“Okay,” Tony said. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. Tell you what, though, I’m sick of being stuck in this room. Help me downstairs, all right?”

“Is that allowed?” Peter asked, frowning. 

“Yeah, I’m just not supposed to overdo it,” Tony replied with a casual wave of his hand. “Seriously, Pete. I’m not looking to run a marathon or fly the suit, I just want to eat lunch in the living room and meet the famous Murphy. Please?”

Peter supposed Pepper hadn’t told him that Tony had to stay in bed. “Do you promise not to complain about taking your medication after lunch?”

Tony made a face. “It’s a deal. You drive a hard bargain, kid.”

Peter shrugged. Tony paused in getting up to look at him extra hard for a moment, searching his face before letting Peter help him to his feet. 

Peter wondered what he’d seen there. 

***

Peter felt a little steadier once he had something to do. He got Tony settled on the sofa with a blanket and a bunch of extra pillows propping him up. By then the casserole Pepper had left them was ready, so he pulled that out. FRIDAY told him it needed to cool for a few minutes, so he went to let Murphy out of the guest room. Murphy was cautious at first, sniffing at everything as he slunk down the hallway, but Peter was pretty sure he’d get more adventurous once he smelled the cheese and chicken in the casserole. 

He served up lunch, along with glasses of lemon-flavored seltzer, and joined Tony on the sofa. It was the first time he’d seen Tony eat one-handed, and it was obvious he was still getting used to it. After a minute of watching him struggle with the plate, Peter fetched a tray he’d seen in the kitchen, to give Tony a sturdier surface to eat on. 

“Thanks,” Tony said, looking a little embarrassed. “You can see why I want to get the prosthesis fitted. Bruce and Shuri want me to give the healing process another couple of weeks, though.”

Peter nodded, picking at his own plate. 

Tony took a few bites. “So how are things in the city?” 

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“No,” Peter sighed. “Not really. The world’s a mess.” He poked at his casserole with his fork. “Ned and MJ both got snapped. MJ’s mom did, too, but her stepdad didn’t, and now he’s remarried. Neither of them is living in the city right now. There’s not enough housing, and everything is really expensive.” Peter grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t mean to––it’s still a good thing, of course, being back. It’s just, it’s really... complicated.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I get that.”

“No, you don’t,” Peter said, remembering what Happy had said to him earlier. “I don’t think you can, any more than I can understand what it was like being here, with half of everyone gone, for five years.”

Tony made an uncertain sound. “Why don’t you try and explain it to me?”

Peter hesitated. He put his plate on the table and kicked off his shoes, then pulled his feet up and onto the sofa. He squeezed his legs in beside Tony’s. Tony reached out and put his hand on Peter’s ankle.

Peter thought for a while. Tony, to his surprise, ate his lunch and let him think without interruption. “I know I was never your kid,” he finally said. “But for a while, I felt like... like I mattered to you. Like we both needed something, and somehow we fit, you know? You weren’t my dad and I wasn’t your kid, but it was okay, because we still... we still fit.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, hoarsely. 

“And then I came back and we don’t––I don’t fit anymore,” Peter whispered. “You’ve got a whole life with Pepper and... and Morgan. And there’s no room for me.”

Tony dropped his fork with an abrupt clatter. “Peter, there’s _always_ going to be room for you.”

Peter shook his head. “You think that, but I know––I know that at some point, I’m going to want too much from you. That’s what I do, I glom onto people, and it wasn’t a problem before, but it is now. And I just––I didn’t think I could take it, when you pushed me away.”

“That’s why you were avoiding me,” Tony said slowly. 

Peter nodded. 

Tony let out a long breath. “Kid, how could you think that would ever happen? I went to hell and back to bring you home.”

“That’s different from wanting me around all the time, though,” Peter replied crossing his arms over his chest. “You have a daughter now, and at some point you’re going to realize...” He sniffled and wiped roughly at his eyes. “It was just easier to feel like I had some control over things,” he managed, “instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tony was quiet for a long time. In the silence, Murphy appeared and jumped up onto Peter’s lap. He settled down, eyeing Tony, and Peter scratched behind his ears. Murphy started purring, and Peter gathered him up so he was cradled against his chest. 

“We’re going to skip over how wrong you are for right now,” Tony finally said. “And I’m just going to ask––did something happen while I was out of commission? To make you feel like this?”

“Nothing, really,” Peter mumbled, mostly hiding his face against Murphy’s fur. “And I’m not the only one, either. Lots of people are... displaced. Lots of people came back and their husband or wife had found someone else, or their parents had married other people or had a new kid.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Is this about Morgan?”

Peter flinched. “I don’t want to talk about it. You won’t understand.”

“Try to explain it, then.”

“ _I can’t_ ,” Peter snapped, and then buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to look at Tony. 

“Okay,” Tony said after a moment. “Kid, can you let me up?”

Peter wordlessly pulled his knees up. Murphy made a disgruntled noise and jumped down. He waited for Tony to leave, but instead he sat on the edge of the coffee table, right beside Peter. Peter refused to look at him, not wanting to see the disappointment he was sure would be etched across Tony’s face. “That day in the hospital, when I woke up,” Tony said. “You came in, and I was so glad to see you. So, so glad. I wanted to hug you, but I was holding Morgan, and so I couldn’t. I didn’t.”

“It was fine,” Peter mumbled. 

“It wasn’t, though,” Tony said gently, “because it made you feel like you didn’t have the right to ask me for what you wanted. And then you left, and I never got to hug you. I haven’t even hugged you since you’ve been here.” He reached out and put his hand on Peter’s arm. “Can I hug you, Peter?”

Peter nodded, finally daring to look at him. Tony’s eyes were dark and concerned but not disappointed. Not disappointed _at all_. He leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Peter, and Peter leaned into him, wrapping _both_ arms around him, holding on tight. He tucked his head against Tony’s shoulder, breathing shakily. 

“Once I’ve got that prosthesis, I can hug you properly again,” Tony muttered. “I can hug you and Morgan at the same time. Don’t have to choose.”

Peter couldn’t help the sound he made at that. He didn’t know how he felt about Tony mentioning him and Morgan in the same breath. He couldn’t help but feel good––safe, somehow, taken care of, wanted, valued––but part of him was still sure that at some point, Tony would change his mind. He didn’t want to get too used to being treated like Tony’s kid, because he _wasn’t_.

Tony sighed. “I know it’s complicated, kiddo. But we’re going to work it out.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “She hates me.”

“What? Who? Morgan?”

Peter nodded. 

“No, she doesn’t. She’s just... well, she might be a little jealous,” Tony allowed. “She’s been an only child her whole life and suddenly she has a big brother. It’s a lot to take in. She’ll adjust.”

Peter sat back a little so he could look Tony in the eye. “What if she doesn’t?”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

“What if she doesn’t adjust? What if she just... never likes me? You’re not going to keep me around if she doesn’t like me.”

“Whoa, whoa, Pete, stop.” Tony squeezed the back of Peter’s neck and leaned their foreheads together. “Deep breath, okay. I’m not going to get rid of you because Morgan is jealous. I’m never, ever going to do that. She’s young and adaptable, and she’ll figure out pretty soon that you’re kind of an easy mark, so you’re gonna be fine.”

“Hey,” Peter objected without much heat. 

“But even if she doesn’t,” Tony went on as though Peter hadn’t spoken, “it doesn’t matter. It _doesn’t matter_ , Peter, because you’re mine, you’re my kid, and I’m never going to get rid of you. That’s not how this works. I’m in it for the long haul, assuming you want me to be.”

Peter’s eyes were suddenly wet. “I do want you to be. But... I heard your messages. The ones you left me while I was––while I was gone.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

“And in the last one,” Peter swallowed, “in the last one, you said you had to let me go, in order to have room for Morgan. And I get it, I do, but it just––it was hard to hear.”

Tony looked stricken. “Shit. Pete, that wasn’t––you were never supposed to hear that. I thought you were dead. I don’t know if you understand how deep in mourning I was for you, but I couldn’t be in that place and be a good dad for Morgan. I had to find a way to move on. But what’s different now is that you’re _here_ now, and I’ll never stop being grateful for that. There is plenty of room in my life for both of you. Do you believe me?”

Peter hesitated. “I want to,” he finally said. 

Tony kissed him on the forehead, then pulled him forward until Peter was tucked beneath his chin, held firm by his one arm. “That’s okay, kid. I can work with that. We have time for me to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight. 

***

Later that night––after Peter and Tony had fallen asleep in front of one of the new _Star Wars_ movies, after they were woken up by Morgan jumping onto their legs, after the four of them all ate dinner together––Peter sat down in front of his laptop in his room. He took a deep breath and looked at Murphy, who was curled up in the center of Peter’s bed, delicately licking one paw. 

If it were him, Peter thought, he’d want to know that Murphy was okay. It wasn’t fair not to get in touch with the Delmars, just because he was worried they’d want him back. 

“FRIDAY?” he said. 

“Yes, Peter,” she replied from his laptop. 

“Can you find someone for me? Last name Delmar. He used to own the store at the corner of 67th and Booth in Queens, but he moved upstate after the snap.”

“Just a moment,” FRIDAY said. She went quiet. “I have found a property record that would appear to match that description.”

“Really?” Peter said. “Where?”

“Approximately forty miles from here, outside of Oswego. I have also located contact information. Would you like me to send it to your phone?”

“Um. Yeah. I guess.” There was a quiet ding. Peter looked down at his phone and saw a phone number, an email address, and a physical address. 

It was only eight o’clock. Early enough for him to call. Peter paused, thumb hovering over the phone number. 

There was a knock on his door. Peter looked up and saw Tony in the threshold. “Finally got Morgan to go to sleep,” he said, leaning against it. “It only took three books and a lullaby. She’s always had a serious case of FOMO. I think I still have a couple of hours left in me. You want to finish the movie? Or maybe we could...” Tony stopped. “What’s going on?”

“FRIDAY found the Delmars’ information,” Peter said. He pulled one knee up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around it. “I’m just trying to get up the nerve to call.”

“Ah.” Tony came and sat down on the bed beside him. “You’re afraid they’ll want him back.”

Peter nodded. 

Tony sighed. “There’s no guarantee they won’t. But they might not. You can’t know until you call them.”

“I know.” Peter forced himself to smile, painfully. “Morgan told me she hoped I didn’t find them. I told her that what mattered was that he has someone to take care of him, even if it’s not me. And I know that’s true. But I... I really want to keep him.”

“I know,” Tony said. “Want me to sit with you while you call them?”

Peter nodded. He pressed the green button to dial the number and put it on speaker. 

It rang three times and then a familiar voice said, “Hello?”

Peter tried to speak and couldn’t. 

“Hello?” Mr. Delmar repeated. 

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder. Peter took a shaky breath and said, “Mr. Delmar? It’s Peter Parker. From––from your old neighborhood in Queens. I don’t know if you remember me––”

“Peter! Of course I remember you. A number five with pickles, squished down flat.”

Peter had to smile. “Yeah, that’s me. I, um, I got snapped, but I’m back now. I’m actually staying with, um, with a family friend not that far from you. But that’s––that’s not why I’m calling.” He stopped, biting his lip. 

“Why are you calling, then?” Mr. Delmar prompted after a beat of silence. 

Peter swallowed. “I, um, I went back to the old neighborhood about a week ago, and...” He paused, looking at Tony, who nodded at him encouragingly, and then at Murphy, who had tucked his head down and gone to sleep. 

“Peter?” Mr. Delmar prompted. “Is there something wrong?”

“I found Murphy, Mr. Delmar,” Peter said, before he could lose his nerve. “He was hanging around the store, and he let me pick him up and bring him home. He was kind of hungry, but he’s all right. I have him with me now.”

“Oh my God, _Murphy_ ,” Mr. Delmar said, sounding shocked and amazed and delighted all at once. “We never knew if he got snapped or ran away in the chaos. I’m glad you found him.”

“Yeah.” Peter cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was calling to ask, um... do you... do you want him back?”

There was a long pause. Peter looked at Tony. 

“I would very much like to see him again,” Mr. Delmar finally said, “and you, too, Peter. We live with my son’s family, and they have three cats and a dog. But we did love Murph, he was a great cat. _Is_ a great cat. Let me talk to Mrs. Delmar, all right?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “Yeah. Of course.”

There was another pause. Peter didn’t know what to say. He shot Tony a desperate look. Tony cleared his throat. “Mr. Delmar, this is Tony Stark, Peter’s family friend. Would you and your wife like to come to lunch tomorrow?”

“Tony... Stark?” Mr. Delmar said, sounding stunned. “Since when do you know Peter?”

“I’ve known Peter for years,” Tony said. “And he’s always told me you had the best sandwiches in Queens.”

“I did,” Mr. Delmar said, sounding, for a second, just a little sad. “We’d love to come, but we watch our granddaughter––she’s six, and she can be a bit of a handful––”

“So’s my daughter,” Tony said. “Well, she’s four, but she’s also a handful. Bring her, they’ll have fun with each other.”

“Well, all right, then,” Mr. Delmar said. “How could I possibly turn down an invitation from Tony Stark?”

Tony gave them the address. Peter managed to stutter out a goodbye, and they disconnected. 

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, embarrassed by how Tony had had to rescue him.

“Not a problem, kid,” Tony said. He ruffled Peter’s hair gently. “Come on. Let’s go watch the movie until Pepper makes me go to bed.”

***

Early the next morning, Peter was mostly asleep when his spidey sense alerted him to someone in his room. He held very still, listening, and heard a small, quiet voice whisper, “Murrrrrphy...”

Peter opened his eyes. It was still pitch black in his room, and the clock on his bedside table said that it was five-thirty. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” he asked Morgan. 

Caught in the act, Morgan froze, then shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Sleeping’s boring. I wanna play with Murphy.”

“Murphy’s sleeping,” Peter pointed out with a yawn. “Cats like to sleep. You can play with Murphy after the sun is up, all right?”

Morgan pouted. “I guess. Can you tell me Spiderman stories instead? That’s what Daddy does when I can’t sleep.”

“He does?” Peter replied in surprise. 

“Yeah. He told me all about you.”

Peter pushed himself up on one arm. Morgan sat down on the floor. She was carrying a plush pig with giant ears. “What’d he tell you?”

“That you were the best superhero ever,” she said. “You were faster than Captain America and stronger than Hulk, and you were really smart and nice. He told me about the time you saved the plane, and how you and him fought bad guys together.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly save the plane,” Peter said. “The plane definitely crashed.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t let the bad guy get the stuff,” Morgan said. “And you _saved_ the bad guy, even though he wanted to hurt you. Daddy says that’s what makes you best.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile. “He really said that?”

She nodded. 

“He probably told you all the good stories,” Peter said. “I haven’t had any new adventures since I’ve been back. Just helping people who got snapped, mostly. And Murphy.”

Morgan tilted her head to the side. “Can you walk on the ceiling?” 

“Um, yeah? I kinda stick to anything if I’m not careful.”

“No, I mean _right now_ , can you walk on the ceiling?”

“Oh.” Peter decided he probably wasn’t going to get to go back to sleep. “Sure.” He shoved back the covers and jumped up so he was stuck to the ceiling. Morgan gasped, as though she hadn’t believed until right then that he could do it. He hung upside down, grinning at her. 

She climbed up on the bed and stretched her arms up over her head. “Pick me up! Swing me!”

“I don’t know if that’s––”

“Puh-leeeeease, Peter? _Please_?”

It was hard to say no to her, Peter discovered. He stretched down and grasped Morgan’s hands, then swung her back and forth carefully. She was only an inch or two off the mattress, so it wasn’t dangerous, though Murphy––who had been woken by all the ruckus––was watching them with extreme skepticism. 

It was possible this was what Tony had meant when he’d called him “an easy mark.” 

After a while, Peter let her go and she dropped down to the mattress. She grinned up at him, until Peter flipped down off the wall––showing off just a little, maybe. “That was fun,” she declared. 

“It was kind of fun,” Peter agreed, surprising himself. It was the first time since he’d come back that he hadn’t been thinking about how out of place he felt. Morgan had demanded all of his attention. He hadn’t had the space in his head for anything else. 

“Maybe we can play outside later,” she said. “I can show you my tent and my treehouse and we can sneak into the garage. That’s where all the good stuff is.”

Peter blinked, startled by just how fast she’d turned around. Tony had predicted this, sort of, but it still kind of made Peter’s head spin. “Maybe,” he said, “but we’re actually going to have some visitors later. Murphy’s old family is coming to visit.”

Morgan frowned at him. “Are they taking him _back_?”

“I don’t know. They were thinking about it.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “We can hide him.”

“Uhh...”

“In the treehouse. Mommy never goes up there, and Daddy _can’t_ right now.”

Peter shook his head, though he was impressed by her deviousness. “No, no, we can’t hide him. Mr. Delmar knows he’s here. And if they want him back... well, he was their cat first.”

“But you’ll be sad.” 

Peter shrugged, not sure what to say to that––that him being sad wasn’t reason enough, or that sometimes doing the right thing didn’t feel all that great. He knew both those things were true, but he wasn’t sure that Morgan was going to buy it. 

Morgan plopped down on the bed next to Murphy and reached out to stroke his head. He started purring. “I like Murphy.”

“Me too.”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to hide him in my treehouse?”

“I’m sure,” Peter said, smiling a little. “But I appreciate the offer.” He glanced at the clock by his bed. It was six-fifteen. “Hey, Morgan, do you like pancakes?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes! Chocolate chip?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “Can we make some blueberry, too?”

“How about _blueberry-chocolate chip_?”

“Why not?” Peter replied, and watched her slide off the bed and go running out of the room. 

Peter looked at Murphy. “I promise not to let her stuff you in a pillowcase and hide you in the tree house,” he told him. Then he paused and listened to––if he wasn’t mistaken––the sound of a chair being dragged across the kitchen floor. He stood up hastily. “At least, I promise to _try_ ,” he told Murphy, and ran down the hallway just in time to stop Morgan from pulling down a giant bag of flour right onto her head. 

***

Pepper didn’t say anything when she came downstairs and found Peter and Morgan eating pancakes at the kitchen table. She kissed Morgan on the top of her head and then, to Peter’s surprise, kissed him as well. “There’s a platter in the oven for you and Tony,” Peter told her. “It’s got pancakes and bacon on it.”

“Thank you, Peter,” she said, taking the food out. “Tony is having a little bit of a hard time getting going, but he’ll join us soon.”

“Is he okay?” Peter asked, frowning. 

Pepper nodded. “He just stiffens up overnight. And he might’ve overdone it yesterday.” She brought her plate over to the table and sat down. 

Peter felt immediately guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Pepper said firmly. “Tony is a grown man who should know his own limits. ‘Should’ being the operative word.”

Peter managed a smile. “Do you think we should cancel with the Delmars?”

Pepper shook her head. “If Tony needs to rest, he’ll rest.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Will he?”

“Yes,” Pepper said, steel in her voice, “he will.”

By the time Pepper finished eating, Tony still hadn’t come down. Pepper sent Morgan upstairs to get dressed, and then she joined Peter in the kitchen, where he was doing the dishes. She started putting away the pancake ingredients and wiping down the counters, which were a mess despite Peter’s best efforts. “Did Morgan wake you up this morning?” she asked, far too casually. 

“Yeah. She wanted to play with Murphy.”

“She inherited Tony’s sleeping patterns, unfortunately. Or not-sleeping patterns, I should say. Feel free to send her back upstairs. She knows she’s not supposed to wake people up.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to send her away.”

“Mmm.” Pepper paused in wiping down the counter and looked at him. “Tony told me what you said to him before. About Morgan.”

Peter ducked his head.

“Peter, honey. Could you look at me?”

Peter raised his head reluctantly. 

“Siblings fight sometimes,” she said. “Some siblings don’t like each other very much, in fact. Usually you’re thrown together by virtue of biology whether you like it or not, and even biological siblings that are raised together often have less in common than you’d think. What you and Morgan are going through... in some ways it’s very unusual and in some ways it’s not unusual at all. Neither of you has ever had a sibling before, and now you do. It’s okay for there to be a period of adjustment.”

Peter had to clear his throat before he could talk. “Thanks,” he managed. “But... she’s yours. _Really_ yours. And Tony’s. And I’m... I’m not.”

Pepper tilted her head to the side. “Do you feel like that matters with May?”

“I... no,” Peter conceded. “But she raised me. And she’s legally responsible for me. Tony’s not. He could just...”

“He could what?” Pepper prompted gently. 

“He could stop caring tomorrow, and I couldn’t do anything about it,” Peter blurted out, and to his absolute horror he started crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled as Pepper put her arms around him. “I don’t really think he’d do that. But he _could_. And I don’t know what I’d do if that happened, I really don’t, so I thought––I thought it would be easier to just stay away.” He tried to draw a deep breath and ended up choking a bit. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Peter. This is hard.” Pepper squeezed him. Then she pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Listen to me. Tony loves you so much. He loves you and Morgan both, so very much. And he will never, ever stop loving you. You were gone for five years, and from the moment he realized that there was a way to get you back, he was determined to do exactly that.”

Peter sniffled. “And it doesn’t bother you that I’m not your kid?”

Pepper smiled at him. “Why would that bother me? Peter, as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the best things that ever happened to Tony.”

“Oh,” Peter said, almost inaudibly.

Pepper smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Tell you what, I’ll finish cleaning up here. Go take a shower and get dressed.”

Peter wanted to argue, but he also felt like he needed a couple of minutes to pull himself together. He turned away to head down the hall. Then he paused and turned back. “Pepper?” 

She looked up from washing a cutting board. 

“Do you really think that? That I’m one of the best things that ever happened to Tony?”

She turned the water off and looked at him. “Peter. Without you, none of this––” she looked around at the house, up the stairs, even down at herself, up to her elbows in dish suds––“would exist. When I met him, Tony Stark didn’t think he could be a dad. He didn’t think he had it in him. You proved to him that he could. So yes, I absolutely think that you’re one of the best things to ever happen to him.”

It was a lot to take in. Peter thought about it while he showered and while he got dressed and while he just lay on the bed and looked out the window while Murphy purred at his side. By then it was late morning, and he could hear that Tony had come downstairs and was watching a movie in the living room with Morgan. 

It was probably time to stop hiding. He forced himself to leave his room, feeling a strange reluctance. It was only when he got to the end of the hallway and saw Morgan and Tony on the sofa together––Tony stretched out on the chaise part of the couch, Morgan curled up against him under his arm––that Peter realized the source of his reluctance. 

It had been different the night before. It’d been late afternoon when Morgan and Pepper had gotten home, and they’d eaten an early dinner before Pepper took Morgan upstairs for a bath and some “girl time.” Peter had stayed downstairs with Tony. 

At the time, it hadn’t felt orchestrated. Now, Peter had to wonder. 

He was being silly, Peter told himself. After everything Tony had told him yesterday and everything Pepper had said this morning, he shouldn’t feel anxious or queasy looking at Tony and Morgan cuddled up on the couch. There was plenty of space for Peter, even if it wasn’t under Tony’s arm. 

“Hey kid,” Tony said, glancing up at him. “Everything okay?”

Peter nodded. He was starting to get that words-caught-in-his-throat feeling. 

“You want to sit down and watch the movie with us? We’ve got a bit of time before the Delmars get here.”

Peter nodded again. He came around the sofa and sat in the opposite corner, knees pulled up against his chest. 

Tony was eyeing him strangely. “Pete? You sure you’re okay?”

Peter shrugged. After a moment, Tony said, “FRI, pause the movie. I have an idea. Morgan, why don’t you sit on my lap? Grab that cushion so you can lean against it––yup, like that.” Peter watched as Morgan helped Tony tuck a cushion against his right side, so she wouldn’t fall off his lap. “Now, Pete, you come over here where Morgan was.”

Peter blinked. “But...”

“It’s okay, Pete. Right, Morgan?”

She looked at him. Peter looked back. He could almost see her thinking everything through. She was Tony and Pepper’s kid, after all. She had scary-smart genetics. 

“Yeah,” she finally said. “Come sit with us, Peter! I wanna watch the rest of the movie.”

It was very quiet––Peter thought only he could hear it––but Tony breathed a sigh of relief. As confident as he’d tried to sound, he’d known how badly that could’ve gone. But Morgan seemed happy, snuggled up on her dad’s lap. There was just enough space for Peter to wedge himself in where she had been if he turned onto his side and lay his head on Tony’s chest. 

“See? I don’t have to choose after all,” Tony declared, and kissed first Peter’s head, then Morgan’s. “Okay, FRI, turn the movie back on.”

***

The Delmars arrived just after noon. Peter was in his room when he heard them pull up. He knew he should go out, but instead he hid while Pepper went to greet them. Once he heard them come inside, he took a deep breath, gathered up Murphy in his arms, and went out to the living room. 

The adults were making adult small-talk. Morgan wasn’t there, and neither was the Delmars’ granddaughter, but if Peter listened closely, he could hear the two of them out in the treehouse. Clearly they’d decided the rest of them were boring. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, during a break in the conversation. All four turned to look at him. 

The Delmars hadn’t changed that much. They were both grayer, older, maybe more tired––kind of like everyone who’d survived the snap, Peter thought. They smiled when they saw him, though, and Mr. Delmar’s smile widened when he saw Murphy cradled in Peter’s arms. 

“Peter!” Mr. Delmar said, stepping forward like he was going to hug Peter. 

Peter tightened up without meaning to, his shoulders coming up around his ears. Mr. Delmar noticed and immediately backed off, to Peter’s simultaneous shame and relief. “And Murphy,” Mr. Delmar added, holding his hand out to rub the top of Murphy’s head. Murphy started purring, and Peter set him down. He rubbed up against Mr. Delmar’s legs, then wound himself through Mrs. Delmar’s legs, too. 

“I guess he remembers you,” Peter said. 

“It hasn’t been that long for him,” Mr. Delmar said, and leaned over to pick Murphy up. Murphy draped himself over his shoulder the way he often had in the store when Mr. Delmar had been restocking. 

There was a beat of silence. Then Tony said, “Well, should we eat outside?” 

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Mrs. Delmar said. Tony took the two of them out to the porch, Murphy still draped over Mr. Delmar’s shoulder, while Peter trailed Pepper into the kitchen.

“You okay, sweetie?” Pepper asked, handing Peter the salad she’d made while he’d been hiding in his room. 

Peter nodded. She looked at him for a moment and then squeezed his shoulder gently. “Take that outside. I’ll be right behind you.”

Peter went outside with the salad and sat down at the picnic table with the others. Pepper joined them a minute or two later with lasagna, and then she and Mr. Delmar went to collect the kids. 

The feeling of having all his words lodged in his throat only got worse as lunch went on. Peter picked at his food while the adults carried the conversation and Morgan and the Delmars’ granddaughter—Emilia—chattered on at a million miles an hour before running off to play again. Mr. Delmar kept feeding Murphy treats off his plate, and Murphy stayed draped over his shoulder, purring loudly. 

Finally, everyone was finished eating. Peter’s plate was still pretty full; he saw Tony eyeing it, but he didn’t say a word. Peter helped clear the table and started to do the dishes. But Pepper stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Go sit outside with the others,” she said. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head. “It’s okay, Peter.”

“I’ll help Pepper with the washing up,” Mrs. Delmar said, surprising them both. Peter had been so inside his own head, he had somehow missed her coming in—which should have been impossible with his senses. “Go sit, Peter.”

He really had no choice. He went outside to find Tony dozing in one of the wicker chairs and Mr. Delmar keeping an eye on Morgan and Emilia. They were playing with Morgan’s giant bubble set on the front lawn. Morgan was showing Emilia how to slowly move the wand to draw the bubble out. An enormous bubble, about the size of Morgan herself, floated off the wand, and Emilia gasped. Then Morgan jumped up and popped it, and they both screamed in delight. 

Peter had to smile, watching them. It felt strange on his face, like he hadn’t used those muscles in a while.

Peter sat down in the third chair, next to Tony. Mr. Delmar cleared his throat. Peter glanced at him. Murphy was on his knee now, kneading the fabric of his pants. Mr. Delmar winced slightly—Peter hadn’t succeeded in clipping Murphy’s claws, and they were pretty sharp—but he didn’t stop him. “Peter, I wanted to thank you for finding Murphy.”

Peter shook his head. 

“No, I mean it,” Mr. Delmar said. “I... I should have come down to the city to look for him after everyone came back. But we didn't know for sure that he’d been snapped—he always came and went as he pleased, and after it happened, I thought... well, I thought he’d either run away or something had happened to him. I think I was afraid of getting my hopes up.” He stroked a hand from Murphy’s head to the base of his tail. “But I should have come anyway. I hate to think what might’ve happened to him if you’d hadn’t found him. So, thank you.”

Peter swallowed twice and managed to find his voice at last “I'm glad I found him, too.”

Mr. Delmar was quiet for a few seconds. “I think that maybe this was not the first time you saved him.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“After my store was destroyed a few years ago. I think you saved him then, too.”

Peter’s brain whited out. “What? No, you—you’re thinking of someone else.”

Tony stirred from his doze, probably alerted by the note of panic in Peter’s voice. “What’s this now?”

“Spiderman rescued Murphy after my store was destroyed a few years back,” Mr. Delmar said. He looked at Peter. “You know, I was never a hundred percent sure. He sounded awfully familiar, but it was only when I got a call from Iron Man that I was sure I was right.”

Peter swallowed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. 

“Of course not,” Mr. Delmar replied. 

Tony cleared his throat, and when he spoke there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I’m gonna need you to sign an NDA. Does your wife know?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Peter admonished, embarrassed. 

“I’ll sign whatever you want, Mr. Stark,” Mr. Delmar said easily. “And no, she doesn’t.”

The three of them fell quiet. Peter could hear Pepper and Mrs. Delmar laughing inside the house. Morgan and Emilia were chasing each other across the lawn now, laughing hysterically. 

Peter looked at Murphy, and then at Mr. Delmar. “You should take him,” he said, very quietly. “He missed you. You’re his family.”

Mr. Delmar sighed. “You know, that wasn’t my intention when we came here today. We have a house full of pets already, and my son had told me no more. It was good of you to get in touch, but you’re clearly taking very good care of him. I didn’t think I would actually take him. But seeing him... he always was my favorite.”

Peter hoped he didn’t look as close to crying as he felt. He knew it was the right thing to do—Murphy had a family that wanted him. He hadn’t been abandoned after all. It was a good thing. 

It still hurt. 

“Can I still see him sometimes?” Peter asked.

“Of course,” Mr. Delmar said, as though that were a given. “Anytime you want. Anyway, I don’t think we’re going to ever separate those two.” He gestured at Morgan and Emilia, who had worn themselves out and flopped down on the grass, staring up at the sky. 

Peter smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

Tony put his hand on the back of Peter’s neck and squeezed gently. He didn’t say a word, but Peter knew what he was saying. 

***

In the end, Peter managed to talk Tony out of making Mr. Delmar sign an NDA. He packed up all the food and dishes and toys that he’d bought for Murphy, scratched him behind the ears one last time, and wrestled him into his carrier. Mr. Delmar hugged him good-bye, while Mrs. Delmar strapped a very reluctant Emilia into her booster seat. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Mr. Delmar promised him. 

Peter nodded. He stood with Tony’s arm around his shoulders as their car headed down the driveway and turned out of sight.

“I miss Murphy,” Morgan whined as soon as they were gone. “And Emilia. Can we go see them tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow, honey, but maybe next week,” Pepper said. She glanced at her watch. “Right now, I think it’s nap time for everyone under five or currently recovering from a life-threatening injury.”

The groans that Morgan and Tony gave at this announcement were almost identical. Peter let out a snort of laughter, surprising even himself. Pepper rolled her eyes and winked at Peter. She picked up Morgan and went inside, leaving Peter and Tony to follow. 

Despite his protests, Tony did look exhausted. He let Peter shepherd him inside the house and up the stairs to his and Pepper’s bedroom. He could hear Pepper and Morgan in her room, reading a book together. Tony went into the bathroom and came back out in pajama pants and a nearly threadbare hoodie. 

It was a Midtown Tech hoodie, Peter realized, the logo faded but just barely visible. It was _his_ Midtown Tech hoodie, from before. 

He imagined Tony and May, going through his things together, boxing them up. He imagined Tony finding the sweatshirt, and May telling him that he should keep it. He imagined Tony wearing it all this time, to the point where it had faded and almost worn out, fit only for sleeping in. 

Tony stretched out on top of the covers and patted the spot next to him. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“You okay, kid?” Tony asked him. 

“Yeah,” he said, and was surprised to find that it was more true than he’d expected. “It was right for Murphy to go back with them. They’ll make room for him, because they love him.”

“Yes,” Tony said, catching and holding Peter’s eye. “That’s exactly right.”

Peter ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, kiddo. You were hurting.”

“But I hurt you, too.”

“Nothing I can’t recover from, especially if you’re around more. I want you around a lot more, kid, as much as you want to be. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds... that sounds really good,” Peter said, swallowing. 

“Good.” Tony drew a deep breath. “I have something to show you. Something that I think might help. It’s in the top drawer of my desk in the study.” He gestured toward the small room off the bedroom. 

Peter got up and went into the study. At Tony’s direction, he found a hidden key to unlock the desk drawer. There was a folder on top, just a plain office folder. 

“Is this it?” he asked, coming back into the bedroom. 

“That’s it. Open it, kid.”

Peter opened it. Inside was a stack of paper. The top sheet read, _The Last Will and Testament of Anthony Edward Stark._

There was a kind of buzzing in Peter’s ears. He drew a shaky breath. “Okay, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t think being reminded you could die is gonna help me.”

Tony grimaced. “Yeah, I know, I’ve spent more time than I’d like pondering my own mortality lately, but that’s not the point. You see the place that’s been marked with a sticky note? Turn to that page.”

Peter turned to the page flagged with an orange sticky note. He read it. Then he read it again, sure that he’d misread it the first time. He raised his head and stared at Tony, who looked back at him steadily. “Is this... wait. Is this real? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, kid.”

“I... you’re leaving me the company?”

“Well, sort of. You and Pepper will have a joint majority stake in the company, assuming I go before she does, which frankly, I do assume.”

Peter made a face. “Please stop saying things like that.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m ten years older than her and I’ve been a lot less kind to myself, and to be honest I prefer it if she––okay, okay, okay,” he said, holding his hand up as Peter started to protest. “I’ll stop poking your childhood trauma. Talking about succession sort of forces the issue, but we can pretend that this is in the case of my permanent retirement from public life.”

Peter managed a shaky smile. “Thanks. But it’s _Stark_ Industries. Shouldn’t it go to Morgan?”

“If she’s interested, we’ll write her in when she gets older. But who knows what she’ll want to do when she grows up? I’m not going to force her into anything. And I’m not forcing you into it, either, if you’d rather do something else.”

“No, I want to do this,” Peter said, with as much certainty as he could put into his voice. “But... I just... are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Pete,” Tony said. “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything. And I hope this helps you understand that I would never–– _could_ never––just walk away from you. No more than I could walk away from Morgan.”

Peter looked away, down at the papers in his hands. “Pepper told you.” 

“She did.”

“That... that isn’t why you did it, is it? Because I don’t want––”

“No.” Tony shook his head, and when he exhaled it sounded kind of weird. Peter looked up and saw to his shock that Tony looked like he was on the verge of tears. “The truth is that those papers are from before.”

“Before?”

“Before the snap. Before the first snap. I know I never told you, I was waiting until you were older. And then you were gone, and... well, we made other arrangements. We had to. But this is what I wanted. So as soon as I can get my lawyer in here, I’m signing them again.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. “You... even before?”

“Yes,” Tony said plainly. “I know I was absolute shit at showing it, but I cared about––fuck, no, I _loved_ you so much, it scared me. I was afraid of repeating my father’s mistakes. But even if I never said it, I loved you, Pete. And I still love you, and I’m going to keep loving you as long as I have breath in my body. I hope this helps you believe that.”

Peter sniffled, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I love you, too.”

“So get over here, then,” Tony said, holding his arm out. Peter wasted no time shoving the papers over and wrapping his arms around Tony, holding on as tight as he dared. Tony wrapped his arm around Peter and kissed the top of his head. Peter buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, overwhelmed. But that was okay. It sounded like Tony was kind of overwhelmed, too. 

“You can always change your mind,” Tony said, voice rough with emotion. 

“I won’t.”

“I need you to know that you _can_ ,” Tony insisted. “I never felt like I had an out, and I don’t want you to ever feel trapped, like I did. You can change your mind about Stark Industries, and I will still love you. Got it?”

“Got it.” Peter started to sit up, but Tony’s arm tightened around his shoulders. He stretched out and settled against Tony’s side, resting his head on Tony’s chest. 

“Does this help?” Tony asked. 

Peter swallowed. “Yeah. I think it does. Thank you.”

They were both silent for a while, just breathing together. Peter hadn’t thought he was tired, but Morgan had woken him up very early, and the entire day had been an emotional hurricane. He suddenly felt like he might fall asleep here with Tony after all. 

After a moment, he felt Tony inhale a little more sharply. “You and Morgan seem to be getting along better.”

Peter smiled, only a little weakly. “Yeah, I guess so, but she was pretty blatantly using me for my cat, so we’ll see how that goes now that I don’t have him anymore. She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” Tony agreed. “And so are you. The two of you are the best kids I could’ve ever asked for.”

Peter flushed, embarrassed and pleased all at once. He snuggled in closer, reveling in being this close when Tony had never really allowed it before. He listened as Tony’s heart rate began to slow, as his breathing evened out. 

“You want me to leave?” he whispered. 

“No,” Tony murmured, without opening his eyes. “I want you to stay right where you are.”

***

Two days later, Happy came to pick him up and drive him back to the city. 

“So,” Happy said, as Peter settled into the front seat after saying goodbye to Tony, Pepper, and Morgan, “was that worth a little deception?”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter said, smiling at him. Happy grinned back, obviously pleased with himself. “Just don’t, like, make a habit of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Happy pulled out onto the main highway. “I notice we are down one howling beast.”

Peter nodded, looking out the window. “The Delmars came and picked him up. They’ve been sending me photos, though, and he looks really happy. You were right, that was definitely the right thing to do.” He hesitated, then plunged ahead, maybe a little recklessly. “But, um, can we talk about me maybe getting another cat? I was reading online about how full the shelters are since the second snap. I know you’re not crazy about pets––”

Happy held his hand up. “You don’t have to sell it so hard, Peter. I want you to feel like it’s your home, too. We can talk about it.”

“Thanks.” Peter relaxed and watched the scenery slide by. Ever since he and Tony had talked, he’d felt something inside himself start to settle. It let some of the words that’d been blocking his throat, his sternum, his chest, finally come out into the open. “And, um, Happy? Thanks for taking care of May when I couldn’t. I’m glad she had you.”

Happy glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “It was nothing, kid. She took care of me, too. I’m really glad we have you back now. We never stopped missing you. Neither did Tony.”

“I know,” Peter said, finally believing it. He was sure there’d be moments of doubt down the line, but for now, it seemed possible. They’d had to move on, but he’d never been forgotten. They’d never stopped missing him or loving him. Thinking that they had was... well, he was pretty sure he knew what it was, which was why he’d talked to Pepper before he’d left about trying to find a therapist in the city. The wait for mental health services was really long right now, but she’d said she’d pull whatever strings she could. 

The two of them amiably listened to podcasts for the rest of the drive. May was supposed to make dinner––meaning, reheat food that Happy had made––so they didn’t stop, driving straight through until they hit the city. By the time they pulled into the underground garage of Happy’s building––of _their_ building––Peter was starving and antsy. 

May greeted him at the door with a long hug and a kiss on the cheek. Peter didn’t try to squirm away; he knew he’d worried her. 

“How was your visit?” she asked him, finally letting him go.

“Good,” Peter said, smiling. 

“I’m glad. Go put your things in your room, dinner’s just about ready.”

Peter lugged his duffel back down the hall to the guest room he’d been staying in. The door was closed, so he shoved it open and turned on the light, only to stop dead in his tracks. 

The room had been completely redone. 

It looked like a cross between his room at their old apartment and his room at the compound. One wall had been painted a deep blue; the others were a very calming cream color. A new bookshelf was filled with copies of books he’d had before the snap–– _Star Wars_ novels, _Discworld_ , all of _Harry Potter_ , and _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_. Framed movie posters from the most recent _Star Wars_ movies––the most recent ones that Peter remembered, anyway––hung around the room, along with family photos of him and May and Ben. There were a few of him and Tony mixed in, too, Peter realized, looking more closely at them, and even of Pepper and Tony on their wedding day. 

“I hope it’s okay that I included those,” May said quietly from behind him. “I know you weren’t here for it, but we thought about you all day.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s great.” Peter turned in a slow circle, looking at the new desk with the new laptop, at the bed––a full-size mattress with storage underneath––and even a little sitting area in the corner with a comfy armchair and a lamp. The bedspread was blue, too, though May had added red pillows the same color as the red in his suit.

“The armchair folds out for when you want to have Ned over,” May said. “I thought it was time for you to upgrade from a twin bunk. Are you okay with the blue? Red felt a little energetic for a bedroom.”

“I really like the blue. You did all this in two days?”

May nodded. Her eyes were shining. “I really want you to feel at home here, Peter. This _is_ your home. Happy helped a lot, he got someone in to paint faster than I thought was possible. We put all the furniture together ourselves. Do you... do you like it?”

“I _love_ it,” Peter said, and threw his arms around her. “Thank you. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s okay, baby. Worrying is in my job description. I’m just glad to see you smile again.” She pulled away but kept her arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go eat. You can tell me all about your trip.”

That night, Peter settled onto his new bed with his new laptop and his phone. He switched back and forth between texting with Ned––who had finally come back to the city from the relatives he’d been staying with––and looking at cats on the New York ASPCA website. Pepper had texted him the names of a couple of therapists he could make an appointment with, and Tony had started sending him designs for a new Spiderman suit. 

Life felt almost... normal. If he didn't think about it too hard or listen too much to the sounds of a city that was still dealing with fallout. Soon enough, he knew, he’d be out there again, either as Spiderman or plain old Peter Parker, but for tonight, he was staying in. 

His phone rang with a video call from Tony just as Peter was thinking about going to join May and Happy in the living room, where they were watching TV. Peter answered it. “Hey!”

“Hiiiiii Peeeeeeeterrrrrrr!” Morgan’s voice rang out, just as her face appeared on screen. 

Peter blinked. “Hey Morgan. Did you steal your dad’s phone?”

“No, he’s here, too.”

“Hi, Pete,” Tony said, appearing over Morgan’s shoulder. It looked like she was sitting on his lap. “We just wanted to say hi before bedtime. Care to join us for a story?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “If that’s okay.”

“Yes, but I get to pick!” Morgan declared. “I want to read _The Pigeon Needs a Bath_.” She held it up so Peter could see the cover. 

“One of my favorites,” Tony said as he slipped his glasses on. 

“Daddy likes the pigeon because he’s kind of a jerk,” Morgan confided. 

Peter grinned. He settled in, holding a pillow to his chest. He wasn’t sure how Tony had the phone propped up, but he had an almost perfect view of both of them as Tony opened the book and started reading. The two of them had a system down for dealing with Tony’s missing arm: he held the book, and Morgan turned the pages. 

It had been a long time since anyone had read Peter a bedtime story. It was strangely soothing. It was a big deal, he was sure, to be invited into a bedtime ritual he bet Morgan and Tony had been doing since before she was old enough to follow along. He could imagine Tony with baby Morgan, rocking her and reading to her. 

In another universe, Peter thought––probably literally, in fact––he’d been there for all of that. For Pepper and Tony’s wedding, for Pepper’s pregnancy, for Morgan being born, for all the milestones. In that universe, he was sure he’d loved Morgan unconditionally from the moment Tony had placed her in his arms and called her his baby sister. 

He would never get those moments back. He’d never see her crawl or walk for the first time, never change a diaper or hear her first word. He’d missed all that time, with both of them, and that stung. But he could make new memories, going forward. And in that moment, it was possible to believe that someday he would look at Morgan and not see a reminder of those five lost years. Someday, they would be beyond all of this. 

By the end of the book, Morgan had quieted, leaning back tiredly against Tony’s chest. Tony was rocking her slightly. The smile he gave Peter was extra soft. “Thanks for joining us for our story, Pete.”

“Thanks for letting me,” Peter said, keeping his voice low. 

“Love you,” Tony said. “Sleep tight, all right?”

“Love you, too. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“You got it. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Peter disconnected. He lay for a moment on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

May had stuck stars up there, he realized. Just like he’d had in his bedroom at the old apartment. Uncle Ben had put them up when Peter was seven years old and afraid of the dark. Peter had never taken them down. 

“They’re the same stars, you know,” May said. Peter glanced over and saw her in the doorway. “I took them down when I moved, and I couldn’t bear to throw them away or even put them in storage. So here they are. I know you might be a little old for them now.”

Peter shook his head. “They’re perfect.”

May nodded, her eyes a little too bright. She cleared her throat. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah.” Peter sat up. “You think we can talk Happy into watching one of the _Star Wars_ movies I missed?”

May gave him a mischievous smile. “I think so. Especially since we Parkers hold the majority vote in this household now, don’t we?”

Peter laughed. He slid off his bed. May put her arm around his shoulders as they walked down the hall, and Peter felt, for the first time since he’d come back, that where he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ETA: Blondsak and I have now established head canon for this universe, which is that Peter gets his own cat pretty quickly, but has to leave him in NYC when he goes away to college. Upon returning home at winter break, he is shocked and dismayed to find that his cat is utterly bonded to Happy, who now makes him lightly seared tuna fillets and sautéed chicken giblets.


End file.
